


the pretty pink in her cheeks.

by BigScaryDinos



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Murder, Necrophilia, Ramsay is his own warning, Suicide, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-05 13:34:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4181751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigScaryDinos/pseuds/BigScaryDinos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeyne and Theon flew. Ramsay finds them and rips away their wings.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>“Sometimes there is absolutely no difference at all between salvation and damnation.” </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jeyne

**Author's Note:**

> Each chapter is 100 words. 18 chapters total. POV is the chapter title. I promise I'm going to update this every day since it's so short.Some serious triggers. If suicide / necrophilia bothers you this probably isn't your kind of story.

 

She attacked blindly, her knife slicing wildly through the air.

The men around her stepped away - a wide berth forming around her but still closing in.

She couldn’t fight the urge to scream any longer and let out a wild unruly cry into the chilled air.

Her eyes blurred until all she could see were fuzzy pinks and reds getting nearer and nearer.

Then she heard his voice.

It had been bad enough - panic rising in her as she was caged in.

Knowing he was here was far too much.

 _He won’t kill me_ she thought.

_He’ll keep me alive._


	2. Skinner

 

He was just another man in the line, helpless to stop it.

He pressed closer, his orders ringing in his ears.

_Do not harm her._

 He had stressed.

  _Anything you do to her will be done to each and every one of you._

  _If one man tries anything, kill him before he touches my bride._

 What if nobody had touched her?

 What if her own shaking fingers, clutching such a small blade, brought the knife up to her own throat.

 What if she foamed at the mouth before  snarling at them - rabid, crazed, and slit her own throat.

 What than?


	3. Ramsay

 

 

He knelt beside her, in the bloody snow.

She was still warm when he took off his glove.

He laid the supple leather down on the snow next to her and stroked her cheek.

They had been gone for months.

He had searched for months.

He found them finally in a camp with Stannis.

When he had killed every man, woman, and child that dared follow anyone who would take away his bashful blushing bride, he had searched for her.

She ran, but not far.

Now here she was, almost peaceful - and all he felt was rage boiling inside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I know this is unrelated but I'm super proud of myself. Finally feeling like I'm starting to take care of myself. Ran 4 miles today, which is a lot considering I don't run...ever. Content enough to come home and write a Ramsay chapter. Hope you enjoy!


	4. Face in the Crowd.

 She deserved a proper northern funeral.

 She’d rest below, in the crypts of Winterfell.

 Where her father’s bones lay.

 Where her brother would have laid.

 Arya Stark; the last Stark - dead.

 And people cried.

 They hung their heads.

 They donned black from head to toe.

 They walked in long silent lines to see her face one last time before she was sealed in the darkness.

 They politely ignored the gaping massive maw of sickly dried gore between her chin and her chest where her neck was.

 They would blame Ramsay.

 He hadn’t done it, but he may as well have.


	5. Reek

 

The world was painted in grey, black, and red again.

For a few days it had seemed life had other colors.

Whites.

Blues.

Greens.

Now he was back.

He couldn’t see much but darkness around his head like a cloud.

If only he had the strength to do the same.

Reek was the coward, although Ramsay called _her_ one.

He would lay in bed, just screaming.

He had never seen Ramsay like this before.

Had he really felt something for the girl?

No, he thought, it was just ownership.

It was the anger of not owning her last dying breaths.


	6. Ramsay

She hadn’t been taken down into those dark damp pits under the Earth just yet.

They unnerved him.

He had been forced by his father to visit his brother - after they had thrown his body into a tomb and sealed him under the Dreadfort.

They trudged down stone steps carrying torches.

He had felt something touching him.

Spiderwebs, he knew.

But it felt like a thin layer of hands, all over him - in his eyes and his mouth and down his body.

If they took her down he would have lost his nerve.

But she was still in the Godswood. 


	7. Skinner

 

Nobody knew he prayed, but he kept the old Gods.

He was from the North.

He had been sitting as far from her resting place as he could.

She was beside a pool, near the largest Weirwood he’d ever seen South of the Wall.

He was sitting in shadows, one eye open on her - spooked by the darkness and the late hour.

When he heard footsteps he hid, pushing himself into the foliage.

He never understood why he would do it, but he did it all the same.

Branches jutting into his skin as he held his breath and watched.


	8. Ramsay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW : Necro. If this bothers you - you should probably turn around now.

There she was, beautiful and pale. 

They had no finer clothes so they had put her into her wedding dress.

He had sliced off the laces so easily when he saw her in it the first time.

It had been repaired easily enough however. 

He knelt beside her and found she was stiff. 

He didn’t need to remove the whole dress. 

His fingers tugged her skirts up, her underclothes down. 

She smelled dead, she reeked of flies, soft meat, and something spoiled.

Even the cold of being outside didn’t seem to keep her. 

The pretty pink had left her cheeks. 


	9. Skinner

In their time they had raped countless girls.

This was something _else_ entirely.

Something utterly inhuman.

He could hear the gnawing of his teeth against her exposed breast

He clamped down on her pale nipples, as if he were trying to remove them.

Fucking should never sound dry.

It did.

The whisper of leather against thighs as Ramsay thrust into her.

Hands bunched into her hair.

Then his mouth was on her neck, suckling at what was matted there.

Burying his face into the open wound of her throat, to the very bone - like a wolf after a fresh kill.


	10. Ramsay

What could he do but keep her above those damp holes in the Earth for as long as he could. 

And he did. 

Weeks passed and he would visit her. 

The stiffness of her limbs. 

The dry hole he left soaping wet between her legs.

Even his Reek couldn’t compare. 

The urges came to him all the time. 

During hunts. 

At dinner. 

When his step mother would urge him to travel south to recruit men. 

His cock deep in a whore’s mouth or his pet’s ass he would think of  _ her _ waiting for him so silently.

And he would come.


	11. Reek

Things had changed, again. 

He left  every night. 

No more screaming into the walls. 

He would leave at random times and come back sweating, panting, and spent.

He would tug off his dirty clothes and crawl into bed. 

Reek was back in his place as bed warmer.

Sometimes he would think that he had some woman somewhere.

A woman he thought he was being faithful to. 

A living breathing replacement for the one who had killed herself.

It was a fantasy, he knew as he felt hands touching his waist.

A goodnight kiss. 

He tasted like Earth and rotten meat. 


	12. Skinner

He had been trying to stay far away after he had watched Ramsay take her.

He hadn’t gone to the Godswood since,  knowing it happened again.

Ramsay smelled off.

He would walk into a room and you just knew he was there.

Skinner began to have nightmares where Ramsay would come into his chambers

and open his mouth to tell him what to do and instead of words, worms would tumble out until the room was full of wriggling pink things.

He drowned in them.

He would wake up clutching his chest, hearing moans and wolf howls outside his window.


	13. Roose

The damned statue was finally done.

He had known what his bastard was doing, but he couldn’t admit it.

Even he had shame, some pride to hide behind.

Everything his bastard did was entirely unnatural. 

This went beyond unnatural.

This was eerie. 

This went against a set of rules Roose did not know he had until they were broken.

He had wanted to say something, but he could not convey his disgust. 

So he had pressed the builders to finish the grave, finish the statue so they could shut up her up into the ground and be rid of this. 


	14. Face in the Crowd.

Saying his farewells the second time was harder than the first.

  
Few were allowed to send her off into her grave, she was a mess.

  
If she had been left alone perhaps she would have been in better condition.

  
Entire chunks were ripped from her as if a shark had gotten to her.

  
Her throat, torn open at first was wider.

  
Her head barely attached to her body.

  
She was missing fingers.

  
Teeth marks pockmarked her skin.

  
Her limbs had lost the stiffness and now lolled lazily while the few men who could be trusted moved her into the crypts.


	15. Reek

Reek curled on the floor chewing his fingers ignoring the flaring pain in his back.

Ramsay had been in a foul mood.

He toyed with a strip of flesh torn from his pet’s back.

Shoulder to ass.

_Come pet, don’t you want to help with my grief?_

He asked, and what was Reek to do?

He had though when he had been with Stannis he could become more,

but now, returned here to his Master he knew the truth.

So he had allowed him to do whatever he needed.

It had all been going well until they heard the scream.


	16. Ramsay

He tossed the sagging skin to the floor and sat up.

He did not even have a moment to think or put his clothes on before the wind howled and the screaming stopped.

He was frozen in place.

It was never a good sign when something happened so suddenly.

Screams were meant to taper off, fade out.

Ramsay felt on the table beside him for his knife, a small thing - only good for close encounters.

It was better than nothing.

He _believed_ it was better than nothing until his door slammed open - heavy wood bouncing off the wall behind it.


	17. Jeyne

He stood naked and shaking and terrified and there was a feeling of joy filling me.

Floating inside me like a raft in a sea during a storm.

Inside of me I felt something raging.

When he tried to slash at me I moved aside, he missed.

He backed into a corner and tried again.

He tore a hole into my skin but it was nothing.

I didn’t feel it.

He felt it when I drug my nails across his face.

When my teeth bit into his throat.

When I devoured him like he devoured me he couldn’t even scream.


	18. Reek

She was _dead_.

I had seen her.

She was a white walker. 

A thing wet nurses tell their children to terrify them into being good.

But she was real. 

She came for him. 

And she killed him. 

She tore him into bits. 

She wasn’t Arya, but she was from the North. 

She was a wolf all the same. 

She had flies for eyes. 

Madness runs through me like a river now. 

 Her eyes are always on me. 

She didn’t say anything. 

She couldn’t.

There was nothing but bone under her chin.

She let me run.  

I wouldn’t be caught again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it guys! Hope you enjoyed the ride as much as I enjoyed writing it! For those of you who'd like to see what inspired this little piece (and if you have eight minutes and eight seconds to spare) - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lyIzrReRehI.


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